


Variations on a Theme

by TheAutotheist



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes does not recover, Bucky Barnes hates everything, Flashbacks, M/M, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAutotheist/pseuds/TheAutotheist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Winter Soldier doesn't remember the man he used to be. He isn't sure he even wants to be that man again. Unfortunately, Steve Rogers keeps popping up in his life, forcing him to remember.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Variations on a Theme

The Winter Soldier dragged Captain America up onto the shore of the Potomac, opposite the crumbling Triskelion. He dropped the man on his back none too gently, but watched to make sure he was breathing before leaving him. The Winter Soldier had never done anything like this before. He had saved his target, rather than kill him. But that was because he knew him. Because it was _Steve_. Because he had said _to the end of the line…_

The problem was, he didn’t know who he, himself, was. Captain America—Steve Rogers—had called him James Buchanan Barnes. But he didn’t know who that was. It was just a name. The Winter Soldier couldn’t remember being James Barnes. He couldn’t remember being Bucky, the name Steve had first called him. So he had to find out.

He left Captain America on the shore where his comrades or friends or allies would find him. Yes, he had saved Steve Rogers, but only to relieve the constant _I knew him I knew him I knew him I knew him_ going through his mind. He had no further attachment to the man. The first thing he did was break into the chaotic SHIELD/Hydra files, the old ones that were never digitized. He looked for any information on this man, James Buchanan Barnes. What he found were very old SSR files on a Sergeant Barnes, Captain America’s right-hand man. Those led him to the exhibit at the Smithsonian, where he found a glass wall with his face and a description of the man he used to be.

The bottom of the biography had a date. 1917-1944. Yes, that was accurate. James Buchanan Barnes had died in 1944. James Barnes died when the Winter Soldier was created. The train. The procedure. He clenched his metal fist tightly in the pocket of his denim jacket. He had had to walk around all day with his hands in his pockets to hide the fact that one was made of metal.

_“You enlisted?”_

_“Yeah, I enlisted. You, of all people, should understand that.”_

_“No, yeah, that’s… that’s great. I just…”_

_“Show it to me.”_

_“Show what?”_

_“The card, you punk. I know you tried to enlist. You can’t hide anything from me, I’m your best friend.”_

_“Okay, yes. I tried to enlist. But I’m not…”_

_“You got rejected. Don’t worry. I’ll kill twice as many Nazis for you.”_

He retreated back to a shadowed corner and propped his hand against a wall to keep his balance. Without thinking about it, he pulled his cap lower over his eyes with his other hand. But when he saw light catch chrome, he quickly stuck his hand back into his pocket.

It wasn’t even a proper memory. Just wisps of long-ago conversation. One voice had been that man, Captain America, no, Steve Rogers. And the other was him. It was him, sounding so different, sounding like a normal human being. Not a weapon. Not a monster. And then it was just gone.

He left the museum quickly. It didn’t have much information that he had not already gleaned from the SSR files, and the SHIELD files released on the internet. He needed Hydra’s files. He needed to know what Hydra did to him. He needed to know what Hydra did to James Barnes, how they had killed him when a fall from a train hadn’t. And he needed weapons.

It was easy. Too easy to break into the closest Hydra base. He had knives, yes, but no guns. Just the strength of the arm they had seared on his very flesh. But that was enough. He sent men flying and snapped necks. He stepped over corpses with slashed throats and punctured lungs. He left men gagging on their own blood. And he was cold. He was the Winter Soldier, the assassin they had created. Frankenstein’s monster back to destroy their good work. He didn’t know how he knew about Frankenstein, but he knew it was something he had heard a long time ago.

Hydra had files. And more weapons. He stocked up on guns and ammo, knives and explosives. The files didn’t tell him anything about himself, or James Barnes, that he didn’t already know. But it did have locations of other Hydra bases. They would surely move quickly. Hydra was now out in the open and he had just single-handedly killed everyone in this base. But he would find them. If history has proved one thing, it was that the Winter Soldier’s targets could never truly escape.

He considered burning the place down. But then he decided to leave it intact, with all the dead bodies, as a reminder of what they had created, and as a warning that what they had created was coming for them.

Maybe the next base tried to stop him. Maybe they realized the Winter Soldier had gone rogue and was coming after them. Maybe they had even realized before he had that what he sought was not an answer, but revenge. None of it mattered. They had created, _invented_ , the Winter Soldier to be unstoppable. And so, he was unstoppable. If Zola wasn’t dead already, he would have spent a great deal of time and energy tracking him down. As it were, he spent his time going from Hydra base to Hydra base, destroying everything.

Occasionally he found notes about his past. And occasionally he had thoughts. Fleeting memories that left him disoriented and confused. The train. The procedure. The bar. A tent. The factory. A cold table. Blue eyes in a brilliant face. And somewhere, _Bucky!_ But there was never enough information on James Barnes. There were mission assignments, and targets eliminated. The more files he found, and the more memories that surfaced as a direct result of his attack on Hydra, the more he realized that the majority of people the Winter Soldier had killed were innocent. People who had to be silenced, who opposed Hydra’s goals. People who the man he used to be would have considered “good guys.” And people he would have considered friends.

His assault on Hydra took him across the east coast, and eventually back to Europe. At some point, he was aware that someone was trailing him, always about a day behind. For a normal person, it would have been curiosity that stopped him. It wasn't. It was paranoia. So he decided to hang back enough to catch sight of his tail. Instead of moving on after tearing through a Hydra base, he set up his sniper rifle nearby so he could see who would come in after him.

It was Steve.

He skipped the next Hydra base and got a few days ahead. He didn’t expect that to stop Captain America, but it got him further away. He would just have to circle back around for the Hydra base he missed. He was sure that by then Hydra would be long gone, but he could scour the place for any records left behind. If he was lucky, Captain America would get stuck trying to stop them.

At least, that had been the plan.

By accident, he stumbled upon a facility in Eastern Europe. It was old, one of the earlier Hydra locations, and had clearly not been in operation for decades. Which was probably why Hydra had not bothered to hide it. While he wanted to track down warm bodies, people who could give him answers, or at least sate his lust for vengeance somewhat, he couldn’t resist the possibility that the old base held.

Something, there was something here. He walked down dusty concrete halls quiet as death. He didn’t even have a gun out. There was no one here. He could tell there was no one here. The machines in the factory had rusted with time. Blood stains on cell walls were so old they were black and peeled like paint. There weren’t even any leftover bodies. No bones. He left the factory and entered what had to be laboratories.

Almost nothing was left. Whereas machines in the factory had been left behind, whatever was here was too important to abandon. There were metal tables and empty cabinets. A few pens lay on old wooden desks, covered with dust. This lab wasn’t particularly special. He had seen several like it in the numerous Hydra bases he had attacked. It seemed like he wouldn’t even find any records here. There was nothing left.

It was a waste of time. He should go. But… He continued on to the next room, more of a vault really. There were no windows. A thick steel door stood open in front of it, and he could tell the walls were similarly lined. This room was designed like a safe, and thus had no natural light. It was impossible to see more than a few feet beyond the doorway. So he pulled a small flashlight out of his belt and shined it around.

The beam of light caught on something, what appeared to be a large metal case. Almost like… He darted into the room and circled the thing, making sure he could see all of it. And then he stumbled back to the opposite wall. It was a metal casket, just like the ones he had always occupied during his cold-induced hibernation.

_“You are to be the new face of Hydra.”_

His feet carried him back out into the laboratory. Yes, they did all look the same, but he remembered this place. With a screech of metal on metal, he tore another door leading out of the room off its hinges. And there. The chair. Very different from the one he had last occupied. It was an earlier model, but it was still recognizable as the machine they used to wipe his mind, to make him into a drone.

It was here. This was the place where James Barnes had finally died.

He looked at the machine, and didn’t register the fact that he had punched it until his left fist was buried in one metal support up to the wrist. With a twist, he pulled his hand back, and then pummeled the machine again. He snapped off the cranial bands with their broken electrodes. He destroyed the seat with its bent springs and tore apart the monitor. When he was done, he was panting hard, and the thing was in pieces.

With a few slow steps, he found his back to the wall. He slid down and banged his head back against the bricks. From this vantage point, he could see the whole thing, and the demolition he had caused. Destroying the thing that took his memories wasn’t going to bring them back. It wasn’t going to make him James Barnes again. Nothing would do that. All he could do was make the people responsible pay. He tangled his metal fingers in his hair and leaned forward in on himself. They made him into a monster. A monster who killed innocent people.

He huffed out a sigh. Maybe there were no such things. Maybe no one was really innocent. Maybe the very nature of being in this world was enough to condemn you. Certainly everyone would die. Even super soldiers frozen in ice and extended way beyond their years. So why should he care about innocent people? Because James Barnes would have cared? Perhaps. But he wasn’t James Barnes, and he hadn’t been for seventy years. He was the Winter Soldier. And he knew what his mission was.

The Winter Soldier looked up when he heard soft footsteps in the lab. Perhaps if he hadn’t been sitting on the concrete floor, he wouldn’t have heard them. Someone was coming. He didn’t know how long he had been sitting there, with his guard down. Perhaps he had tripped some kind of sensor by entering the abandoned building, and someone was coming to check it out. There was no other exit from this room except into the lab. So he would have to fight past whoever was out there. Which wouldn’t be a problem. He had gotten out of much harder situations.

Carefully, quietly, _stealthily_ , he lifted himself to his feet. He made sure to keep to the side, out of the line of sight of the lab. If whoever it was knew where he was, they would have come right through. They must have only known he was somewhere in the building. Which meant he still had the element of surprise. He slid along the wall and ducked low as he pulled a thin throwing knife out of his belt. He could go for his gun, but as soon as he used it, he would reveal his position. And he found guns had less finesse.

He listened for a moment. One, no two sets of feet were walking through the room. Whoever was out there wasn’t speaking. By the way they moved, he could tell they had military training, at least, or paramilitary. He slipped out another knife. He would have to be quick. One of the pairs of feet was making its way over to his hiding place. He could take that one out and then attack the second one before either knew what was happening.

He counted footsteps in time with his breaths and waited as long as he dared before spinning out of the room and holding the point of the knife between two fingers to throw it. But the blank face of a Hydra agent did not greet him. In fact, it wasn’t an enemy at all, and that was what stilled his hand. He had his arm raised as he stood face to face with Steve Rogers.

He heard the other man shift and point his gun at him, even though the second knife was pointed at him from where the Winter Soldier had been about to throw it. He didn’t look over. He was lucky his moment of hesitation hadn’t gotten him killed. But that man seemed to realize the Winter Soldier wasn’t Hydra at the same moment he himself had realized he was facing Steve. However, the other man didn’t lower his gun.

Steve eyed him, but didn’t say anything. He had his shield on his arm. Which meant he must have dragged it up out of the river at some point in the intervening months. Other than that, he didn’t carry any weapons. No guns or knives. Just the fucking shield. Always the fucking shield. The Winter Soldier was annoyed, even though he couldn’t place why.

Steve lowered the shield slightly and wetted his lips. “Bucky,” he said slowly.

The Winter Soldier still hadn’t lowered his arm. “That’s not my name,” he growled.

“Bucky…” Steve tried again.

“That man is dead!” he yelled back. He finally lowered his arm, but he kept the two knives clutched in his hands.

“No, no he’s not,” Steve said back so calmly that it made the Winter Soldier want to strangle him. “I know you’re still that same person, inside.” He paused. “You have to be.”

“Look around you, Steve!” he said. For a moment, Steve’s eyes lit up when he used his name. “Do you know what this is? This is the place where they made me what I am.” He held up his left arm, and he could tell the other man tensed. The Winter Soldier finally recognized him. It was the man he had kicked off the Helicarrier, the one with the special flight suit. But he didn’t give him much thought beyond that. He never took his eyes off Steve’s face. “Look at this.” He turned his arm so both could see it. “This is where this arm was created. And it belongs to a killer. Your… _friend_ is gone.”

Steve looked hurt by that comment, by the way he had said “friend,” but he couldn’t understand why. “I know what they did to you, but…”

“You have no idea what they did to me!” he spat back. He gripped the knives tighter in his hands. The joints in his metal arm whirred. “While you have been out being Captain America, I have been tortured and turned into this.” He stared Steve down. “You’re such a big, damn hero.”

“Bucky, if I’d known…” Steve looked so devastated, that a normal man might have stopped. But it gave him some kind of sick thrill. He _wanted_ Steve to hurt. He wanted Steve to understand what he had been through, what had been done to him. For seventy years, he dreamed of falling off that train, of watching Steve abandon him.

“Stop calling me that!” he yelled. “I told you, he’s dead. James Barnes died here, and I was created. No thanks to you.” He glared at Steve. Steve opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. “You didn’t come back for me. You let Hydra take me.”

“Believe me, Buck, if I could do that over, I would have. If I’d known you survived the fall…”

“Does it matter?” He cut Steve off. “You didn’t go back for your supposed best friend. You _left_ me there. You let Hydra capture me and put this on me.” He looked down at the arm and clenched his metal fist. “I trusted you and you abandoned me.” He glared up at Steve again. “You left me for dead. Do you know what happens when you leave people for dead, Steve?” he asked viciously. Steve stayed quiet. “They. Die,” he said slowly, enunciating each syllable, in answer to his own question.

He paused and took in Steve’s expression. There was guilt, yes, but there was sadness and pity too. He didn’t want the pity. He wanted Steve to hurt, to feel responsible for what he did, for what he let happen. So he looked away and his eyes landed on the other man. When the Winter Soldier looked at him, he raised his gun slightly, perhaps to show he still could shoot him at any time, rather than as an actual indication that he was going to.

He looked back at Steve. “ _I_ died,” he said quietly, and found the venom was gone from his voice. Finally, he slipped the knives back into their sheaths on his belt. “Even if I remember something, anything, _everything_ about the man I was before, I’m not going to be him. You’re chasing a ghost.”

“Bu—” Steve started to say, but he stopped himself. “I’m not going to give up on you.”

The Winter Soldier sighed. “What are you doing here, Steve? Are you here to stop me? To take me in?”

“No, I…”

“Then go home, Steve. You’re not going to find what you’re looking for. And I’m not going to stop until I find and kill every single member of Hydra.”

A look passed across Steve’s face. It was hard to place. It was like a moment of grim recognition. “I know,” he said calmly. “I’ve seen the destruction you’ve left behind.”

“Then you know I’m serious.”

“What happens when you’ve done that?”

“I’ll figure that out later.”

“You don’t have to spend the rest of your life focusing on revenge.” Steve took half a step forward, like he was going to try to reach for the Winter Soldier.

In response, the Winter Soldier took several steps back. “Yes, I do! That’s my mission now. They have to pay.”

“I don’t disagree, necessarily…” Steve said slowly. “But you have a chance to be something other than the assassin that they wanted you to be.”

He shook his head. “Too late. Seventy years too late.” He looked down at his metal hand again. “Are you going to try to stop me or are you going to get out of my way? Either way, I’m walking out of here. The question is whether I leave you bloody or not.”

Steve sighed and set his hands on his hips. The pose sent an electric shock straight through his brain. It was so familiar. He could swear he had seen Steve stand like that a thousand times when he was giving orders, as Captain America. He blinked to erase the conflicting images. “I’m not going to stop you…”

He shook his head. “Then get out of my way. I don’t want to hurt you, Steve. But cross my path again, and you won’t be this lucky.” He glared at the other man again, for good measure. That man glanced at Steve, but didn’t lower his gun. The Winter Soldier huffed in annoyance and walked around the two of them towards the exit to the lab. “Stop following me.”

He didn’t look back as he left the room. Even though his instincts told him to never turn his back on anyone, he knew Captain America wouldn’t attack, and that his partner wouldn’t do anything without Steve’s say-so first.

As he walked away, he heard the other man say, “You’re just going to let him go?”

“Yeah…” Steve mumbled.

“So what do you want to do now, Cap?”

He heard Steve sigh. “Let’s go back to DC.”

He left quickly, before he could hear anymore of the conversation. He wanted Steve to hurt, to feel responsible for how he had abandoned him. But it didn’t give him any satisfaction. It just made him more angry. With Hydra. With himself. And with Steve.

 

He went after Hydra bases with renewed passion. But it didn’t help. The more people he killed, and the more things he destroyed, the more lost he felt. He kept seeing Steve’s face, both the way he looked at him when he told him he didn’t have to spend the rest of his life focusing on revenge, and the anguished face he made as he screamed, _“Bucky, no!”_

He saw it in his dreams, and in his waking hours. It was as if Steve haunted him, though he could tell Steve was no longer physically following him. True to his word, he had returned to the United States. But still, everywhere he went, he could see Steve’s face, and could hear his voice. It was driving him crazy. Well, crazier.

So he left Europe and returned to America. He had no real destination in mind, and only the vaguest idea that he had to keep moving. Hydra had put out a kill order on him. They would take him alive, if it was possible, but otherwise they wanted him dead. He had caused too much damage and was too much of a threat. When he hacked Hydra’s transmission and saw the notice, he took a bit of grim satisfaction on being higher on their target list than Captain America. It did mean he couldn’t stay in one place too long, however, or else Hydra would find him.

His constant moving eventually lead him to Brooklyn. He could have stayed elsewhere in New York, but he found himself crossing the bridge in the late evening and walking down familiar streets, that he nevertheless could not remember. He could tell which building were old, dating back to at least the forties. But he didn’t recognize any of them.

He wasn’t even sure he wanted to remember any of this. He didn’t want to go back to being the weak man who had fallen off the train. But he still couldn’t help but explore the place he came from. What started as aimless wandering became a purpose as muscle memory took him to an old apartment building. Based on files he had recovered, this was James Barnes’s last known address before the war. The apartment he had shared with Steve.

He stood staring up at it for a while. He could not remember this building. It triggered nothing in his brain. For all he knew, the place had been completely torn down and rebuilt, and that was why. But he had a feeling that even if every brick and board was the same he would not recognize it.

Rather than go inside the building, he made his way to the roof by way of the fire escape. It was high enough that at one point, you could probably see quite far across the city. But newer buildings blocked the view now. He settled down against an old wooden crate. If he squinted, he could almost tell what the view would have looked like back in the day.

_“See, I told you it would be better up here.”_

Just like that, he didn’t see the buildings anymore. He could see all the way to the bridge.

_“We could be out dancin’, somewhere inside. But you chose to come spend New Year’s Eve up on the roof.”_

_Steve turned and smiled at him. His eyes were bright, and his cheeks were red from the cold. But he looked happy, even more happy because Bucky hadn’t abandoned him to go out and try to pick up a girl or two at one of the many parties happening around town. “But we’re sure to see fireworks up here.”_

_“Yes, that’s true. Someone will be setting up fireworks somewhere around here,” Bucky agreed. He settled down on the cold rooftop against one of the sections of wall that rose up to their level. It was part of the staircase that was the legitimate way up, though of course they had taken the fire escape outside the window of their apartment._

_Steve sat down beside him. He had brought up his sketchbook and a bit of graphite. As they sat there, he started to draw. Bucky watched him at it. He watched the way buildings and the bridge and the sky bloomed under Steve’s fingers. If only the world could see Steve the way Bucky saw him. He was extraordinary._

_After a little while, Bucky wrapped his arms tightly around himself. “Shit. Whoever thought the New Year should start in the middle of the friggin’ winter was an idiot.”_

_Steve frowned. He had long since given up on trying to keep Bucky from swearing, but every now and then Bucky liked to test him. “I think it was the Romans, or something,” he said without looking up from his sketch. “And Rome never had to deal with a New York winter.”_

_“No kidding.” Bucky looked down at him. “If I’m cold, you have got to be freezing.”_

_“I’m okay…” Steve muttered._

_Bucky laughed. “Yeah right, you punk. I can see you shivering. You’re gonna get sick. Again. Here.” He sat up and started to shrug his coat off. “Take my coat.”_

_“You were just complaining about being cold.” Steve rounded on him. “I’m not gonna take your coat. Then you’ll get sick.”_

_“Yeah, but we both know it’ll be way worse for you.” He offered the coat, but he definitely looked way more miserable with it off. So Steve shoved it back towards him. After a minute of silent debate, Bucky slipped it back on. He couldn’t argue he was cold. “Then get over here.” Steve didn’t move away when he inched closer and they ended up with their sides pressed together._

_As they settled down again, the first fireworks went off a few streets away. “See, told you we’d see some from here,” Steve said with a satisfied expression. He turned back to his sketchpad and started to draw in the burst of the firework. As he did, he settled in a little closer against Bucky’s side._

_“It’s not even midnight.” Bucky cupped one hand around his mouth and yelled “You’re early!” he doubted anyone could hear him, as everyone was out partying and having their own celebrations. So he just laughed. “Guess he couldn’t wait.”_

_“Yeah,” Steve mumbled in agreement. But all his attention was turned back to his drawing._

_Bucky leaned his head back against the wall and let Steve do his thing. Every now and then he checked his watch so they’d know how close they were to the new year. So he didn’t even notice that Steve was no longer only drawing the buildings. He glanced down after a while and saw Steve have sketched him in profile, looking out at the city. Something about the way Steve had pictured him caught his breath._

_“What’s this?” He asked quietly._

_“My tribute to the New Year’s Bucky Barnes did not go out with some random dame.” Steve’s voice was full of teasing, but when he looked up at Bucky, his expression was serious. “I mean, you could have gone out and partied like I know you wanted to.”_

_Bucky shrugged. “I would rather spend it with you than some dame. You’re my best friend.”_

_Steve smiled. It was a small, shy smile, too tentative about some hidden emotion. “Thanks, Buck.”_

_Bucky smiled in response. “Of course,” he said._

_Maybe it was the cold air. Maybe it was the fact that it was nearly midnight on New Year’s Eve. Maybe it was the fact they were sitting so close. Or maybe it was the drawing resting in Steve’s lap. Whatever it was, something made Bucky throw away any inhibitions he had previously held. He leaned closer to Steve slowly, so slowly, to give him plenty of opportunity to stop him. But he never did. So Bucky pressed his lips against Steve’s in the calmest, sweetest kiss._

_When he pulled back, Steve’s face was flushed even more than from just the cold. “Bucky…” he started to say. “I…” He shook his head when he couldn’t come up with the words. So instead, he leaned in and kissed Bucky back._

_Bucky raised his left hand to bring it to Steve’s face, to keep him close. In response, Steve reached up and wrapped his fingers around his hand, leaning into the touch as they kissed. Their lips were cold and chapped, but neither of them cared at all. They moved back this time only when they need to breathe, and Steve’s hand kept Bucky’s against Steve’s face. His eyes were so bright in the dark, beautiful and blue._

_“Aren’t you supposed to do that at midnight?” Steve asked when he could breathe properly again. He gave Bucky a mischievous smile. “You’re too early.”_

_“What can I say?” Bucky asked with a smirk of his own. He leaned in close again, pulling Steve’s whole body towards him as he did so. “I’m just untraditional.”_

_Steve laughed before the sound was swallowed by more kissing. He practically crawled into Bucky’s lap, chasing the heat of his body in the frigid air. He wasn’t a very good kisser, not having a lot of practice, but Bucky didn’t seem to mind. Because he had wanted this for so long. They had apparently both wanted this for so long._

_“By the way,” Bucky said when they broke off again, “I think I’m in love with you.”_

_Steve smiled. It was that same shy smile. He moved close to rest his forehead against Bucky’s as he whispered, “I love you too…”_

The memory faded away slowly. It was not like the others where it left him disoriented and feeling as if he had been ripped from reality. Instead, it was like waking from a peaceful dream. The echo of the last words reverberated in his ears. Steve’s confessed, _“I love you too…”_

The Winter Soldier titled his head back so he could look up at the sky. He had been sitting there so long it had turned completely dark. But no stars were visible. Only the light of the distant moon. For once since the fall, his mind felt calm. Even though he could feel questions bubbling under the surface. He wasn’t ready to ask them yet. So instead, he lingered on the memory from times gone by.

 

It was easy breaking into Steve’s apartment. He could get into secret Hydra bases, so an apartment was nothing. And Steve did not even have a security system. At some point, he had moved back to New York, but he hardly spent time there. At first, he must have spent time searching for the Winter Soldier. Now he spent half his time working with the Avengers.

The Winter Soldier had done a loop around Stark Tower in Manhattan before coming here. Now there was a building he might actually have trouble getting into. Though he doubted it was impossible. However, he didn’t need to break into the Tower when he could break into Steve’s apartment and wait for him there.

It was sparsely furnished, with only the basics: dining room table, a couch, a bed, and so on. Maybe the Winter Soldier had done more damage to his last apartment than he thought. Not that he was focused on that kind of thing at the time. He was only concerned with taking out his target. He scowled as he pulled random things off a bookshelf. Even if he didn’t have a direct line of sight, the fact that he hadn’t killed his target still irked him. Even if the man faked his own death. But in all the chaos of the fall of SHIELD, the Winter Soldier discovered he was still alive. He watched Fury pick up Steve from the shore where the Winter Soldier had left him after the crash.

He stalked around the rest of the apartment in the dark. In Steve’s bedroom, he found a file in Russian. He already knew what it was going to be, but he opened it anyway. Inside the cover was clipped a very old photograph of him—or the man he used to be—and a larger photo of his hibernation chamber. He barely looked at the full-size photo. He knew all about that. He pulled the small deployment photo out of the folder. James Barnes looked so innocent and naive. What did he think war was going to be like? It wasn’t like the Winter Soldier had never seen this photo before. It was part of his army file. Though later photographs from when he was a Howling Commando were more common. In those photos, his eyes were already hard. After all they were taken after _painscreaminghothothotPAINPAINPAINdarkness_

The Winter Soldier stumbled a bit and put his hand on the dresser where he had found the file to steady himself. It was buried, deep beneath the ice and metal and _“You are to be the new face of Hydra.”_ He knew what Hydra had done while he was still James Barnes, the torture Barnes had survived before Steve found him. Was that when he was really created? Had it started long before the train? Certainly, that was when they had first tested the serum on him, and what made him survive the fall. But it was also when they had started to chip away at James Barnes’ soul.

He set the file on top of the dresser. His own face looked back up at him, though in an ice-induced sleep. Looking at the earlier picture, it was almost hard to imagine he was that same man. He gently set the small photo down on top of the larger one. It was clear this photo had been pulled out several times. It wasn’t just older, it was handled more. He tried to imagine what Steve must have looked like when he was pouring over this folder, holding this picture.

He stiffened when he realized he was no longer alone in the apartment. How was it possible someone had actually made it in without his noticing? Had it happened when he had the brief flashback? This time, he didn’t move to the door stealthily to see who it was. He knew who it was. No one else would be able to get that close to him.

A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. The star-spangled shield was in his face, only inches away from hitting him. But Steve stopped short. His eyes widened comically in surprise. With the dark hoodie the Winter Soldier now wore, Steve obviously hadn’t recognized him. But really, who else would sneak into his apartment?

Steve lowered the shield, and loosened up. Clearly, he did not think the Winter Soldier was there to kill him. It was true, that was not why he had broken in that night. But still. Steve’s lack of caution was troubling. How in the world was this man still alive?

Steve looked at him calmly for a moment. The Winter Soldier could see the outburst that had been bubbling under the surface, but he had clearly stamped it down. It was almost painful how obviously Steve wanted the Winter Soldier to be Bucky again. “What happened to hurting me if we crossed paths again?” His lip quirked slightly like he wanted to smile.

“I said if you crossed my path. This is me crossing yours,” the Winter Soldier said without skipping a beat.

“I see,” Steve said, deadpan. He looked at the Winter Soldier for another moment, his eyes raking his face, taking in his features, his appearance. His hair was actually a bit shorter than the last time they met, and less dirty. He had cleaned up a bit when he had landed in New York. If he was too scruffy, he was noticeable. And that was not something he wanted to be. “What are you doing here?” he asked at last.

“I…” the Winter Soldier started to say, but then stopped. He knew he wanted to see Steve, talk to him. But now that he was here, he did not know how to put it into words. Steve patiently waited. “I remembered some things.” He might as well start at the beginning. “From before I became this, and before you became… this.”

“Before the procedure?” Steve asked.

“Before the war.”

Steve stiffened slightly. “What did you remember?”

The Winter Soldier frowned. “I’m not him. I’m not James Barnes, or… Bucky. I’m never going to be him again. So seeing these things, it’s like watching… someone else’s life. I want you to know that. Don’t think just because I remember some things, that you’re going to get him back.”

“I understand,” Steve said very quietly, but the Winter Soldier could tell he deflated slightly.

“He wasn’t just your friend.” It wasn’t a question. “You and he—I were…”

“Yeah,” Steve said. “We were.”

The Winter Soldier nodded once.

“What did you remember?” Steve asked softly.

“New Year’s Eve.”

Steve sucked in breath sharply. “On the roof?” he asked.

The Winter Soldier nodded again.

“When we…” He looked down.

The Winter Soldier looked at him. They were standing very close. Steve had never backed up from when he had been about to attack. Close enough that he could have reached out and touched Steve, if he wanted to. The strange this was, he did want to. Instead, he asked, “There was more after that, wasn’t there?”

“Yeah…” Steve mumbled. He didn’t look up. “Until you—Bucky, whatever—enlisted. I didn’t see…” he looked up at the Winter Soldier with a frown, “you again until that Hydra factory. And then… well, a few times… but we were fighting a war. And then… you died.” He tensed slightly.

_“Bucky, no!”_

“I remember that. I never forgot that. No matter what Hydra did to me.”

“I’m so sorry, Bucky,” Steve said. His voice was so sad.

The Winter Soldier didn’t even correct him. “I know. I saw your face when I fell.” He paused. “But sorry isn’t going to change what happened. You can’t change the past.”

“That I do know all too well.” Steve nodded. “But you remembered… Back before the war, before everything.”

“It’s only a memory.”

“Bucky, that’s all we’ve got at the end of the day.”

The Winter Soldier sighed in annoyance. “I told you, that’s not my name.” He rolled his eyes, then he reached up and grabbed the front of Steve’s shirt to yank him forward to crash their lips together.

Steve didn’t even hesitate to drop his shield and wrap his arms around the Winter Soldier. So the Winter Soldier reached up and ran his flesh fingers through Steve’s short hair, holding his head close. The kiss wasn’t slow or chaste. It was a hungry and sloppy and wet kiss, that was too aggressive. It wasn’t a reunion. He had been telling the truth when he said Steve was not going to get Bucky back. But it was, after all, the same body. And this body was still attracted to Steve Rogers. So the Winter Soldier wanted him.

He broke the kiss only long enough to drag Steve’s shirt over his head, then he went back for more. He nipped and licked at Steve’s lips, with one hand on the back of his head and the other drifting down to the waistband of his pants. Steve likewise found the zipper on the hoodie and managed to unzip it without ripping it. He pushed it off the Winter Soldier’s shoulders, and then found the edge of his shirt.

Steve’s hand slid up the bare skin of his stomach. The touch sent a shiver through him. It seemed like he had never been touched like that. He knew that wasn’t true. But he couldn’t remember anything James Barnes had done, and he certainly hadn’t done anything since becoming the Winter Soldier. Steve slid the shirt off and let his hands linger on his neck as he kissed him again. Tentatively, his fingers slid over the Winter Soldier’s shoulders. He didn’t have to go far on the left side to meet metal. He touched the plates of the cybernetic arm, and ghosted his fingertips along the scar tissue where it met his flesh.

“Just going to stare?” the Winter Soldier asked when Steve pulled back to look at the arm.

Steve flushed slightly. The Winter Soldier was amused to see Captain America do that. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to see the whole thing without, you know, being punched in the face.”

“You can’t tell me you’re turned on by this thing.”

Steve flushed even more. “No. But seeing what they did to you…”

The Winter Soldier looked down at the arm. Talking about the damn thing was not what he wanted to be doing. “You can get teary later. No more talking.” He shoved Steve in the chest to push him back onto the bed behind him. Steve scooted more up onto the bed and the Winter Soldier straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss Steve again while he scraped his fingernails down his chest. Steve settled his hands on the waistline on the Winter Soldier’s pants.

After that, true to his command, the Winter Soldier made sure there was no more talking the rest of the night. At some point, he lost the upper hand and found himself under Steve. It was perhaps that only time when he would be okay with such a position.

When they were done, Steve whispered, “Please stay…”

In response, he said, “This doesn’t change anything. I’m still not James Barnes.”

“I know.” Steve yawned as he settled down. “But please stay.”

So the Winter Soldier stayed. Even though he was not really sure why he was doing it. James Barnes had loved Steve more than anything. The few memories he had gotten back made that clear. But the Winter Soldier wasn’t capable of that anymore. Still. He saved Steve. He spared his life. He came back and sought him out himself. It wasn’t as simple as just staying away anymore. They were always going to keep crossing paths, the two super soldiers out of time.

He did stay until he fell asleep. But he didn’t stay the whole night. Just before dawn, he left. It felt like sneaking out, since Steve was still asleep. But he never was going to be the kind of person who would be there in the morning. He didn’t even know what all this meant to him, or what he wanted to do next. But he knew he would gravitate back towards Steve. Apparently that was what he had always done. It was possibly the only thing left of Bucky Barnes, his desire to be near Steve and keep him from harm. So yes, he would find Hydra. He would kill them. But he would also watch Steve’s back. Steve would need it. Especially if he continued to do this Avenger thing.

The Winter Soldier glanced back at the building. His hands were stuffed deep in the pockets of his hoodie. People were already bustling in the pre-dawn light. This city never slept, after all. Maybe, along with all that, he would also sometimes stop here, or wherever Steve moved to next, and do this again. Whatever happened from there, he would deal with it as it came.

 

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm part of the group that likes to do Bucky recovery fics, where he totally loves Steve and goes back to how he was. But I'm so amused by how he's portrayed in the cartoons (the episode "Ghosts of the Past" of Avengers Assemble is hilarious). So I wanted to do that version where he hates everyone and blames Steve. Hence the title. Still ended up being a shipping fic. Oh well.


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